


Learning the Truth

by lillianmmalter



Series: HM Queen Peggy [2]
Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Childhood Hijinks, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-02-08 22:32:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12874437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lillianmmalter/pseuds/lillianmmalter
Summary: Everyone learns the truth eventually.





	1. Peggy

**Author's Note:**

> I've had a hard day, so you all get a little bit of fluff I've been sitting on.
> 
> Thanks to Ellix and [truth_renowned](http://archiveofourown.org/users/truth_renowned/pseuds/truth_renowned) for first reader services.

Peggy peeked over the edge of her mum’s dressing table with wide eyes. The treasure sat there, still in its box, but the box was open now, and the treasure sparkled in the light like the most prettiest thing in the world.

She wanted it.

If she was a pirate she could have it, so Peggy decided to be a pirate. She looked over her shoulder and around the room, but Mummy and the maids were all gone for the moment. Black Peg took her chance and carefully lifted the treasure from its velvety resting place.

It was heavy, and the diamonds were sharp against her palms. She held it before her and looked down at it, marvelling at the twinkles, at the precise metalwork that kept the diamonds in their rows.

It was perfect.

Black Peg bit her lip and raised it to her head. The weight of it pressed down on her scalp and made her neck tense. It was too big for her, but she got it to balance just right, and it stayed put. And now she was a queen! Black Peg the Pirate Queen!

Black Peg smirked at her reflection in Mummy’s dressing mirror and put her hands on her hips like she’d seen Peter Pan do in the play. Now that she was Queen of the Pirates, no one would challenge her authority, especially not stinky older brothers who didn’t play fair. Black Peg had the power to decide what games she’d play from now until forever!

“Margaret Elizabeth, what are you doing?!”

Peggy spun around at her mum’s voice and the tiara fell from her head, crashing to the carpet under her feet. She stared at it with wide eyes and a tremble in her belly.

She was in so much trouble.

Mummy ran over and scooped up the tiara, examining it with a disapproving sigh. The top row of diamonds was bent on one side, caving in and making the whole thing look suddenly cheap, no longer a priceless treasure but a thing Peggy had destroyed.

Her lower lip trembled as she struggled not to cry.

“This is not a toy! Oh, look what you’ve done. I can’t wear this to the theater now, I’ll be laughed out of the Ton.”

“What about your other one, Ma’am?” Mummy’s lady maid, Mary, asked.

Mummy sighed. “I suppose I’ll have to wear it. It’s nowhere near as nice as this one. Oh, Peggy, why couldn’t you keep your hands to yourself?”

“Every little girl likes to play princess, Ma’am. I expect it’s just the same with young Lady Margaret.”

Peggy couldn’t help defending herself. “I wasn’t playing princess!”

“Peggy-”

“I was the Pirate Queen!”

“Oh, really! Peggy, what nonsense!” Mummy cried. “You are a descendant of royalty, you don’t play at being pirates!”

Peggy blinked. “What’s descendant mean?”

“Born from,” Mummy said absently, picking things up from her dressing table and putting them back down again. “Oh, Mary, where’s my blasted handkerchief?”

Peggy ignored Mummy’s frequent refrain. There were more important things to worry about. She had questions. If she was born from royalty, did that mean _she_ was royalty? And if she was royal and a girl...

“Mummy, am I a princess?”

“No, dear, you’re too far away from the central branch to be a princess. Queen Victoria was your father’s grandmother, though, and that makes her your great-grandmother. Really, Mary, where is that handkerchief? I’ll be a mess if I don’t have it.”

Mary came bearing three handkerchiefs and a new fancy box like the one Peggy had stolen the now-broken tiara from, but Peggy was no longer paying attention.

She smiled to herself. She knew about Queen Victoria from Michael’s school books. Queen Victoria was the most powerfulest woman in the world when she was alive. And Peggy was descendanted from her. Even if she wasn’t the Pirate Queen, she could still be Queen, just like her great granny Victoria. 

No! Queen Victoria was an Empress! Empress of India!

Peggy ran down the hall to Michael’s room in search of the pith helmet he pretended he didn’t keep there. If she was going to be Empress of India like her great granny Victoria, she’d need the right clothes to protect her from the jungle. And then she could fight Shere Khan!


	2. Howard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't get into Howard's head at all, so apologies in advance for how rough this is.
> 
> Thanks to Ellix and [truth_renowned](http://archiveofourown.org/users/truth_renowned/pseuds/truth_renowned) for first reader services.

Howard had been turned down by women before. It happened less often now that he was rich and starting to be famous, but it still happened.

The first time Howard met the pretty and curvaceous Agent Peggy Carter, she looked at him with disdain and asked him in a captivating British accent how much power he’d need for his Vita Ray machine.

He knew instantly he had to get her into bed.

But she rebuffed him.

She rebuffed offers of dinner and dancing and theater and art. She rebuffed his salacious comments and rolled her eyes at his flirting and went back to business as though he’d said nothing at all. 

Normally, Howard would shrug off such refusals and move on to the next pretty lady he met, but there was something about Peggy that was different, that intrigued him, and not just in his pants.

Peggy demanded respect from others and only gave her own when it was earned. Like a schoolboy with a crush, he chased after her doing anything he could to earn that respect. She was a queen among women. In other eras, she might have been worshipped as a goddess—she certainly had the figure for it. But it wasn’t just that, either. 

It was her attitude toward life, toward the people she met and her certainty that they could do better that really got him going. After a couple of years knowing her, he no longer cared if he ever got her into bed, but he did care about getting and keeping her respect.

His suspicions about her came on slowly, almost unconsciously, until it seemed that he always knew she had royal blood in the same way he always knew that gravity left to its own devices would pull things back to earth. 

It was something about the way she held herself, the way she walked. Not the upright carriage of her fantastic body, or the penetrating, straightforward gazes she gave the military men around them everyday—that was playacting to make them respect her on their terms in the same way he hid his impoverished Jewish ancestry to play among the bureaucrats and the elite. No, it was the way she was used to being listened to, the way she easily transitioned from taking care of herself out on the battlefield to being cared for by the lower ranking staff of the SSR. He’d only met one class of people who acted like that, and they weren’t common at all.

If that didn’t clinch it for him, the regal tilt of her head and the disdain with which she rolled her eyes when she found something ridiculous would have tipped him off to the secret she was hiding. Even spoiled starlets and society darlings couldn’t match her monarchic mannerisms when she let down her guard.

And so he kept tabs on her, tried to make sure she was okay after everything the war took from them both. Eventually, he even succeeded in tricking her into staying with him. Royalty, even royalty who were hiding who and what they were, deserved only the best, after all, and he prided himself on seeking out the best the world had to offer in everything. Besides, if Peggy Carter deemed him suitable enough company to accept his hospitality he’d be a fool to squander the opportunity. 

He still wouldn’t say no if she ever invited him into her bed, though.


	3. Jarvis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Ellix and [truth_renowned](https://archiveofourown.org/users/truth_renowned/pseuds/truth_renowned) for first reader services.

Jarvis stood outside the entrance to the living room trying to remember how to breathe.

Peggy Carter was of royal blood? His Miss Carter? The Miss Carter he’d run around having adventures with more than once, the Miss Carter he’d personally tended to when she was injured, the Miss Carter who stoically held his hand when he thought he might lose his beloved Ana, and with whom he fought so viciously only days later? She was a princess?

Bloody hell.

He’d have to get used to calling her Her Royal Highness now. Though maybe not. Maybe only when they were in private, as she didn’t seem to want anyone to know. But if she was the next in line to the throne, people would have to know.

Oh dear, this was a right mess, wasn’t it?

A brisk policeman’s knock came at the door. Jarvis looked in despair between it and the room where Miss Carter—no, Her Royal Highness—and the two men from the Palace were speaking. This was not the time for more company.

Bravely, he straightened his spine, adjusted the line of his suit, and calmly walked over to open the door.

It was Chief Sousa and Chief Thompson, arrived early to help with final preparations for the engagement party tonight. In all the kerfuffle Jarvis was astonishingly far behind on his preparations, despite what he’d told Her Royal Highness earlier. And of course Chief Sousa was wearing one of his appallingly inappropriate Hawaiian shirts without a tie, oh dear. What a marvelous first impression he would make.

Jarvis took a deep breath and ushered them into the entrance hall, doing his utmost to appear as though everything was fine.

“Everything okay, Jarvis?” Chief Sousa asked. 

All right, so he wasn’t doing that good of a job at pretending, but everything was still fine.

“Perfectly, Chief Sousa, though I feel I should warn you that Her- erm, Miss Carter has some rather important, if rather unexpected, guests.” 

“Important how?” Chief Thompson asked. “Embassy important? That why there’s a diplomatic Rolls outside?”

“Er. Well.” How to explain? Oh dear.

“Mr. Jarvis, who was that at the door?” Miss- Her Royal Highness called. She appeared a moment later, her face shifting through a variety of expressions on seeing the new arrivals. There was the usual loving joy that came with seeing Chief Sousa, but now it was quickly followed by distress, uncertainty, and was that despair? Oh dear. That did not bode well at all.

“Chief Sousa and Chief Thompson, Y- Miss Carter.” 

Her Royal Highness shot him a displeased look at his near slip, but didn’t say anything. Instead, she walked over to the SSR Chiefs and smoothed down the placket of Chief Sousa’s shirt, straightening it for him. Both men looked at her in surprised bafflement. 

“You want to tell us just what the hell’s going on here, Carter?” Chief Thompson asked.

“Not particularly,” Her Royal Highness said, playing with the lay of Chief Sousa’s shirt buttons. “But I will anyway.”

She fell silent instead. The chiefs exchanged a worried glance over Her Royal Highness’s head, and Jarvis had to bite his own lip to not try comforting her.

Jarvis felt his heart twist for her dilemma, remembering all too well his own at the thought of telling her the truth of his past. He wasn’t ashamed of it in the least, would have gladly accepted death if it meant his beloved Ana could live—still would, come to that—but not many people saw his actions in a heroic light, and Her Royal Highness’s esteem was one he did not fancy losing, even such a short time after meeting her. He couldn’t imagine what she must feel having to reveal her own secret to these men who deserved to hear it, whose bad opinion of her would no doubt wreck her at this stage in their friendship. Or at least, Chief Sousa’s bad opinion of her would. Jarvis wondered how he could make the telling part of things easier for her.

“Perhaps you might be more comfortable in the south parlor?” he suggested. The entry hall was certainly no place for this sort of conversation, and the living room held the men from the Palace. This was a conversation that required privacy.

Her Royal Highness’s head came up and she smiled tightly. 

Well, at least she agreed that privacy would help a little.

“Yes, that would be ideal,” she said, pulling away from Chief Sousa and heading in that direction.

Her Royal Highness looked as worried as he’d ever seen her as she led the now absolutely baffled SSR Chiefs into the south parlor.

Oh dear.

Jarvis retreated to the kitchen to whip the caterers into faster action. That was at least one thing he could do to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter actually started life as a cut scene from [HRH](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11657895/chapters/26230689) and was the original inspiration for this collection of reaction stories. I thought it was too amusing to just let it die in my cuts document.


	4. Jack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Elllix and [truth_renowned](http://archiveofourown.org/users/truth_renowned/pseuds/truth_renowned) for first read through services.

“ _The thing is, I’m not really Peggy Carter_.”

Jack should be used to his world changing on its axis by now. It had happened enough times in his life that he kept expecting it not to affect him so much anymore. One of these days, he’d learn that up was down and down was up and he’d be completely unsurprised; the news wouldn’t phase him at all. He’d be unmoved by it and carry on as normal, just with new intel informing his actions and decisions.

But, of course, that wasn’t how it ever worked in reality. It always threw him for a loop, always pulled the rug out from under him with a sickening lurch.

“ _The thing is, I’m not really Peggy Carter_.”

There were few things that were unchangeable in Jack’s world. Events and the loyalty of people around him shifted like sand on a beach. No one could ever be fully trusted, but some people could be trusted more than others. Peggy Carter might be a stubborn pain in the ass, but Jack trusted her with his life, trusted her to find the truth of any situation, and trusted her to fight for what she believed in.

“ _The thing is, I’m not really Peggy Carter._ ”

Jack’s trust meant nothing.

“What the hell are you talking about, Carter?” he asked, betrayal creeping up his throat like bile.

“Technically, Carter is my mother’s maiden name. My real name is Princess Margaret. Her Royal Highness Princess Margaret. In school I used the last name Windsor.”

And there it went again, the rug pulled out from underneath him less than a minute since he lost his footing before.

Her Royal Highness. What the _hell_?

“Royal Highness?” Jack asked, almost wishing she’d claimed to be one of those female Leviathan spies instead.

“Technically, yes,” Peggy said. She flicked her eyes at Daniel, but moved them away again before she could have gathered much of anything from his expression. “I’m a great-granddaughter of Queen Victoria.”

Jack held his ground, refusing to let the rug move again. Instead, he started laughing, hysterical in the face of something that wasn’t true, couldn’t be true. “Good one, Carter. You almost had me there for a second.”

“I’m not joking.”

She had to be joking. This was a joke. A terrible, horrible joke.

“What? You really expect us to believe that?” he said, wishing he had it in him to snarl it out. “Cause I gotta tell you, just cause you’re British and you walk around like you own the world doesn’t actually make you royalty.”

“No, it doesn’t, but the fact that I was born royal does.”

“Carter–”

“She’s not lying, Jack,” Daniel said, evenly, steadily, like he could just roll with the punches with something like this. Jack looked at him and saw the truth in the shock on his face. Daniel wasn’t as unaffected by this news as he was making out to be, which was some small amount of comfort.

Still.

This couldn’t be real. It wasn’t real. It would mean everything he knew about Peggy Carter was a lie, and that… He couldn’t stand that.

“I thought the King of England only had two daughters,” he said. He knew the King only had two daughters, dammit. He read the papers just like everyone else.

“He did,” Peggy said. “Both of whom are now dead. As are a number of my other cousins who preceded me in the line of succession.”

And there went the damn rug again.

“No,” Jack said slowly. “No way are you next in line for the British throne.”

“I’m having a bit of a difficult time believing it myself, to tell the truth. The last I checked I was twenty-something in line with plenty of male cousins preceding me.”

Jack couldn’t believe it.

It was unbelievable.

“The last time you checked?” he asked. “What, you’re in line for the throne and you didn’t know exactly?”

“I stopped paying much attention when I was a child, as I was so far down the line that it was absurd I’d ever have to actually serve as Queen. My attention was better spent elsewhere.”

This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real. Peggy Carter, who disdained authority and thought rules were for other people was going to rule England someday?

It made so much sense he wanted to cry and then drown himself in a couple of gallons of bourbon. He collapsed into a nearby armchair instead.

Peggy Carter was royalty. And Daniel—quiet, steady, working class Daniel Sousa—was gonna marry her. Jack almost wanted to laugh again. Those two ruling a country together? They’d either blow up the world or make it unrecognizable in some well-intentioned do-gooding campaign that would actually work. Probably both.

“This is insane.” Jack didn’t realize he’d spoken out loud until Peggy snapped at him.

“I suppose you’d like some proof?” she said, eyebrow arched.

“What? Do you have the King stashed in your bedroom or something?”

“Jack,” Daniel chided.

“No, but I’ve the Lord Chamberlain and the Assistant Personal Secretary to the King waiting in the living room.”

Jack blinked.

Of course she did.

“What, you couldn’t get the first Personal Secretary here?” he asked.

“I expect he’s busy serving the King. I didn’t ask.”

“So, do we get to meet these guys, or do you need us to clear out?” Daniel asked.

“I suppose I should introduce you,” she said. “I’d rather hoped I’d never have to subject you to this part of my life.”

“Cause being royal is such a difficulty,” Jack said, almost on autopilot.

Peggy glared at him, then rolled her eyes. “Believe me, it’s not as glamorous as it sounds.”

And the thing of it was, she seemed to be right. The guys from the Palace were every bit as stodgy and stuck up as Jack expected them to be, but they also expected Peggy to just bow to their whims, and that was simply not gonna happen. Not only would Peggy not stand for it, but for whatever it was worth, Jack wasn’t gonna stand for it either.

His world may have flipped upside down again, but he knew Peggy. Princess or not he knew her. There was no one he trusted more. She and Daniel were gonna have their happily ever after because they were good people and they both deserved to have a fucking break for once. Whatever it cost him, Jack was gonna stand by their side and make sure they got it. He just had to figure out how.

Maybe a bourbon would help.


	5. Rose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Ellix and [truth_renowned](http://archiveofourown.org/users/truth_renowned/pseuds/truth_renowned) for the first read through.

Rose walked up Stark’s driveway with knots in her stomach. When Daniel called and told her to spread the word about the canceled party, she’d done it without question, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have any.

Why were they cancelling? Had something come up in a case? Were they trying to protect people, or was it something else? She couldn’t bring herself to believe that they were cancelling the party because they’d called off the engagement, not with the way they’d been caught canoodling around the office the past week. They loved each other as much as any two people could.

But then, stranger things happened all the time. She knew that perfectly well working for the SSR, and she didn’t even have the clearance for some of their stranger cases.

Maybe one of them had gotten cold feet. Maybe an old lover had popped up and awakened doubts. Maybe Peggy needed to set a honeytrap and didn’t feel right about doing it with Daniel waiting in the wings.

Maybe Rose needed to find out exactly what was going on before she turned into her mother.

Rose rang the doorbell and was ushered into Stark’s house by Mr. Jarvis, who led her all the way through it and into the kitchen, where Chief Thompson was picking at the abandoned preparations of an exquisite engagement feast. He looked nearly as bad as he had when he was recovering from being shot last year. Mrs. Jarvis was sitting next to him with all the nervous energy of a startled bird.

Rose’s heart sank. 

She could not deal with her friends’ heartbreak again. She couldn’t stand more days of seeing Daniel’s long face or hearing the quiet catch in Peggy’s throat as she stopped herself from asking what she really wanted to know. It was Rose’s least favorite part of her job, and she wasn’t going to do it again.

“Did you know?” Chief Thompson asked her as soon as she stepped into the room.

“Know what?”

“That Peggy Carter is royalty.”

Rose blinked.

That was not remotely what she thought this was all about. Royalty?

“I’m sorry. What?” she asked.

“She’s technically Peggy Windsor,” he continued as though she hadn’t spoken. “A princess. The princess now. You think you know people.”

Rose turned to Mr. Jarvis for an explanation. Chief Thompson was clearly going to be of no help at all.

“It appears Miss Carter has been hiding her birthright from all of us,” Mr. Jarvis said, looking as unruffled as ever. Rose admired him for it. “With the passing of His Majesty’s youngest daughter, Miss Carter is now Her Royal Highness and heir to the throne.”

Rose blinked again and felt her own cool ability to handle the unexpected begin to disintegrate. No wonder Chief Thompson looked so bad; he’d never had the stomach to weather big shocks like these, not the way he pretended he did, anyway.

Rose took a seat at the kitchen table across from its current occupants to give herself a moment to digest this news. “You’re telling me Peg’s a princess?” she asked. “And someday she’s going to be ruling England?”

“The United Kingdom and her colonies, yes,” Mr. Jarvis corrected.

Rose considered this for a moment and felt a flare of pride. She always knew Peggy was a special kind of woman. Good for her. Still, what did it mean that she and Daniel had called off the party? Were they getting married, or not? Could they still get married? And if they could, did that mean Daniel would become some kind of prince?

She got a sudden image of Daniel in some ridiculous royal regalia and wanted to laugh.

Oh, she would pay to see that. All the months of acting as their romantic go-between would be well worth it if she could see that. The two of them just had to get married first.

Which apparently might take more doing than Rose had known was possible in this day and age, good grief. As they all talked about what the future would hold, Rose swore to herself to do everything possible on this end of things to make sure the wedding happened as soon as they could manage it. Peggy and Daniel might actually go crazy otherwise. 

Rose couldn’t do much for Peggy from halfway across the world, but Daniel she could handle. She’d have a lot of Chief-nagging in the foreseeable future to keep Daniel on the right track. She looked forward to it.


	6. Ana

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Ellix and [truth_renowned](http://archiveofourown.org/users/truth_renowned/pseuds/truth_renowned).

Miss Carter was a princess?

It had been hours since Edwin told her the news, and yet Ana still found herself fluctuating between disbelief and a giddy, girlish excitement at the mere idea of being near royalty.

Miss Carter was a princess.

Ana shook her head and stepped down on the pedal of her sewing machine, whizzing through the stitches of Miss Carter’s travelling suit. It was nowhere near as complete as she’d said, but it would not take much more than a few hours work to make it so. If Miss Carter was stepping out into the world as a princess, she needed to look the part in something feminine and elegant, and this suit would do nicely. The afternoon dress Ana had recently finished as a possibility for undercover work at the country club in Pasadena could work for meeting Palace officials and the like; she’d make sure it got packed along with the best of Miss Carter’s other clothing.

And thinking of Miss Carter’s other clothing made Ana despair of her time constraints. Much of Miss Carter’s wardrobe was built around her work as an agent. It was nearly all hard-wearing fabrics in bright or dark colors suitable for anything from office work to mad brawls to sneaking around at night; she needed to be prepared for anything, after all. Unfortunately, Ana didn’t think any of it was suitable for meeting a King, cousin or not.

Oh! Miss Carter was a cousin of the King!

Ana allowed herself another giddy moment of disbelief before attacking the suit’s buttons with needle and thread.

Miss Carter would need dresses of much finer fabrics than the ones Ana used for her dresses now. She likely wouldn’t be getting into quite so many fights as a princess. At least, Ana hoped not. It would be a relief not to have to worry about her safety anymore. Dear Edwin would be so disappointed; the man did love a good thrill.

Ana, on the other hand, loved an artistic challenge. 

Just what did a princess like Miss Carter wear? When Ana thought about the images of royalty she occasionally saw in her magazines or in the newsreels, none of them seemed like Miss Carter at all, so stiff and detached from everything, not wearing their fine clothes with pride at all.

Miss Carter always took pride in her appearance; she was a woman who knew what her body looked like and used that to some advantage. Though she seemed as stumped about to how to dress like a royal as Ana was.

That horrid blouse Miss Carter put on this afternoon looked simply dreadful on someone with her figure. It was meant for undercover work as a dumpy spinster, for crying out loud! Miss Carter needn’t emphasize her bust, but she shouldn’t attempt to hide it like that either, not in her daily life. That blouse put ten pounds onto Miss Carter’s face. It was awful! Besides, Ana hadn’t missed how little Chief Sousa had liked the blouse. She’d caught him glancing at it with dismay a couple of times in the few minutes she was in the kitchen with them. The man clearly appreciated Miss Carter’s physical assets the way a man in his position should. Ana always approved of couples appreciating each other’s assets; it made being part of a couple more fun. 

So, something that exposed Miss Carter’s neck and took advantage of her good posture and ample bust without being vulgar. A v-neck, perhaps done with some soft draping in a lighter fabric than Ana was used to using for Miss Carter. It could contrast nicely with a sharply-tailored suit or complement a skirt in a flowing A-line. The trick would be to make it look similar enough to the sorts of things Miss Carter already wore to the office to make her comfortable, but different enough to help remind her of her new role.

Ana finished the suit and reached for her sketchpad to quickly give shape to the ideas spinning in her head. If she worked through the night, she might just be able to complete a few of the simpler pieces before Miss Carter left.

By the time Edwin joined her in their rooms to retire to bed, Ana was on her second blouse, with a newly completed afternoon dress hanging from a plant hook in the ceiling, the purple passion that normally hung there having been banished to the top of the hoosier in the kitchen for the time being.

Ana had little idea what princesses might need in the more formal parts of their lives, but her friend would need clothes that suited her, and that was something Ana could easily provide.


	7. Angie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Ellix and [truth_renowned](http://archiveofourown.org/users/truth_renowned/pseuds/truth_renowned) for first reader services.

Her feet were killing her and she still had half a shift to go, but Angie didn’t care. Edith was here, sitting at the counter reading a book and sipping at her cup of coffee, smiling at Angie each time she walked by like Angie was the reason the sun rose in the morning and set at night so the stars could come out. It was all Angie could do not to beam at the customers.

It was ridiculous, she knew it was ridiculous, but she couldn’t help it. 

She had a girlfriend. 

Who she kissed and went to bed with at night. 

After years of tiptoeing around the idea of maybe just kissing one of her string of roommates, now she was living in sin with her real life girlfriend and she wanted to shout her good fortune from the rooftops.

She wasn’t stupid, of course, so she wouldn’t do it, but that didn’t stop her wanting to.

Angie rounded the counter with a tray overfull of orders for the obnoxious family from Connecticut at booth nine when she happened to glance up and her good day got infinitely better.

Peggy was here!

Angie bumped Edith with her hip as she walked past and jerked her head in Peggy’s direction. If Peggy was here, there was a good chance that fiancé of hers was here too, and Edith would want to see her brother, if only to tell him off in person about scheduling the engagement party so neither Angie nor Edith could go. That had been a bad day for both of them.

She quickly handed out the food on her tray and went back to the counter to arm herself with a pot of coffee for an excuse to visit her friend while on the clock.

“What’re you doing here, English?” Angie teased as she sidled up to Peggy’s booth. “I thought you were supposed to be celebrating your engagement neither of us could fly out for. I’m still mad at you for that, you know.” 

Peggy looked up at her somberly, a shadow of a polite smile on her face. “I was, but I got some news from home yesterday. I’m off to London.”

Angie sobered, her happy grin fading, and she slid into the booth next to Edith close enough their thighs were pressed together. Edith dropped a hand under the table to squeeze her knee, and Angie caught Peggy noticing the movement. Her stomach fluttered in nervousness for a moment before she reminded herself that Peggy helped to set her up with Edith in the first place and wouldn’t care.

Besides, Peggy looked upset about something. She was biting the inside of her lip in that way she did sometimes when she was unhappy for thinking about things too hard. Angie suddenly feared just why Peggy might be heading to London instead of mooning about LA with her fiancé. Speaking of which, where the hell was he?

“You know that Princess Margaret died recently?” Peggy asked, completely throwing Angie for a loop.

What the hell did that have to do with anything?

“Ang wouldn’t shut up about it all last week,” Edith said. “She kept going on and on about how tragic it was.”

That’s because it was tragic. Was it her fault her girlfriend was too highbrow to care about the royal family?

Angie elbowed her and took her cue. “Well it is!” she cried. Edith’s eyes were laughing at her. Again. The jerk. Peggy still looked pale, though. “What I want to know is what that has to do with you flying off to London all of a sudden.”

Peggy avoided her gaze, one of her hands coming up to touch her hair in a gesture that on anyone else would look nervous. 

Since when was Peggy Carter nervous about the royal family?

“Well, the truth is, she was my cousin,” Peggy said. Angie blinked. “And, well, it seems I’m needed to take her place. As the next in line for the throne.”

Holy crap.

Edith’s hand went slack on Angie’s knee. Angie reminded herself to breathe. They both stared at Peggy in shock.

“You’re kidding,” Angie finally managed, though she knew Peggy wasn’t the sort to kid about this kind of thing.

“I’m not.”

“So when you told Miss Fry your dad knew a senator….” She trailed off, realizing that if Peggy was a princess, her dad probably knew a whole lot of people more important than just senators.

“He did. Just not the one I told her he knew.” 

Angie nodded, vaguely, still unable to process this news that was just too fantastical to be believed.

“Does Daniel know?” Edith asked.

“He does,” Peggy said, looking sad. “We decided it would be best for the time being for him to remain in Los Angeles to wrap things up there while I go on ahead.”

And that would be why she looked so sad. Damn.

“You okay, English?”

Peggy pasted on a pathetic excuse for a smile. “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because it sounds like all your plans for the future just flew out the window. Small potatoes, really.”

“It would sure as hell throw me for a loop,” Edith said lightly, her tone echoing Angie’s perfectly.

Peggy’s smile became more natural for a moment before dimming again. “Well, there’s no point in dwelling on what cannot be. I’ll manage. I always do.”

“Are you and Danny really okay?” Edith asked, face worried. Angie slid her hand over Edith’s under the table and squeezed.

“Of course,” Peggy said, a bright smile that was patently false lighting her face. “Daniel’s already working things out on his end, and once I know the lay of the land in London, I can do the same.” Her face and tone became more sincere. “I’ve no intention of breaking my engagement to your brother, Edith. I’ll still want you both as bridesmaids. The wedding will just be… well, grander, I suppose, than any of us were prepared for.”

She looked unnerved as she said that last sentence, as though it had only just occurred to her. Angie’s stomach flipped. If Peggy was the new heir to the throne, that meant her wedding would be a royal wedding, which meant… it was gonna be a really big deal when it happened.

And Angie would be a part of it.

Ha.

Well, she always knew she was destined for the world stage one way or another. Though, if Peggy was gonna have a royal wedding, Angie would have to pull a lot more double shifts if she was gonna have even half a chance of traveling to London to stand up with her for it.

Crap.

And here she’d thought Los Angeles was gonna be a stretch.

Still, she wouldn't miss out on being there for Peggy during her big day. If Peggy wanted her there, she’d be there. The royalty aspect was just an added cherry on top to taunt her cousins with. 

They'd figure it all out.


End file.
